Meanwhile, Back on Santo...
The two days since the attack were a veil of pain and tears. She cried more than she wanted, but there were times when either the stitches to her face itched somethin’ fierce, or the knife cuts they held together would sting to make her wish to die. She’d barely drink water, but broth or soup of any kind just wasn’t happening, what with hot liquid touching those unhealed slice marks. She cried again this morning after they changed her dressings. A single glimpse of her reflection in the bureau mirror showed her a pale, skeletal face with nasty long Frankenstein stitches. Despite Felicity’s kind words about her healing, Abby got a full-on study of her monstrosity…and knew for certain her worst fears. No man would want to lay with her again…leastways not a man of regular appetites. Miss Claudine had said it true. She’d cater to the freaks, the men whose souls possessed a blackness that fed on the further damaging of broken women. If those customers were absent, then she’d be expected to launder sheets and freshen the other girls’ rooms between their johns. Work began again tomorrow. “I can’t afford to keep you layin’ about,” the madame groused. “Cleanup work til the stitches come out. Then, you’re back on the line.” Back on the line…giving it up to any psychotic Miss Claudine could bilk for a few credits. She’d heard the story of Tethys Tara. Twisted sumbitch had gone after her face, tits, and nethers with a broken liquor bottle…messed her up real bad before her people got to her. Rest of her life had been spent earnin’ five to ten credits a throw, either to put out to men who played at pain or to simply show off the savage scarring of her face and body as a curiosity. Tara’s life ended in a sideshow tent, beneath a sign what said “The Alligator Woman.” She sat, closed up in a box with a tiny viewing window, opening her robe to them as paid a quarter credit. Some say the lantern was knocked over by the eight legged “spider horse” in the next stall. Then there was others what told of Tara, pourin’ that flaming oil all over her body, and laughin’ out loud as she burned to a cinder. And for Abby, a similar journey would start tomorrow. Would she be known as “Santo Abby” she pondered? Or might she find her own way out? Since she got cut, some of the girls were now secreting pistols around their beds. Abby knew pistols. Wouldn’t be a thing to put a bullet to her brainpan…squish! Done and done. She was mulling this over when the door burst open. “Abby….Abby!” Felicity exclaimed in a quiet whisper, “get a robe on! Dere’s men comin’ for you!” “What…what?” she asked, a mild slur to her voice as she tried not to move her mouth and cheeks. “Ah cain’t work!” “Not work!” the older whore grabbed her least titillating dressing gown. “Here…put dis on!” Felicity was helping her shrug into the robe when a knock came at the door. “Abigail Travis?” “Come in!” Felicity called out. Abby felt the hurried progress of a brush in her hair. The door opened, admitting two men in identical white smocks and trousers. One of them pushed a wheelchair right up to the foot of her bed. “Miss Travis?” the other said. “We’re here to take you downstairs. Let me help you into the chair.” A moment later, she was gliding along the whores’ balcony toward the staircase. Her two escorts lifted her, chair and all, and with Felicity in tow, carried her down to the saloon floor. Murphy’s “Down The Hatch” was always open, but at this hour of the morning, no more than those who couldn’t shake the hold of liquor were the only ones lining the bar. Today, a couple of the tables had been pushed together, around which were seated a knot of people. Of this group she only recognized two. There was Deputy Hicks, pretending not to know her even though he’d been a regular these past four months. And there was Miss Claudine, her own dressing gown pulled up as high as she could manage in the sight of the others, all respectable looking folk. “Is this our girl?” Hicks asked. Gorram liar… “Yes,” Claudine said in a voice that didn’t carry its’ day-to-day brass. “That’s her.” She was wheeled up to an empty spot at the table. To her right was a couple…woman and man of mild brown skin, Spanics, more like. They smiled at her. Smilin’ hurt serious bad just now, so she nodded. Woman on her left, she’d seen before. Dark skinned woman, tall, well spoke and dressed. And she was no less this morning as she turned. “Abigail Travis? It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Leona Kidjo. I’m an attorney. Do you know what an attorney is?” “Ah heard it said it’s them what sucks the lifesblood from a hard workin’ business man.” To nervous laughter all around the table, Leona chuckled and said, “I’m sure you have heard that. But there’s a difference. You see,” she explained, “today, I am your attorney. I am here, along with all of these good people, to talk about you living a better life.” She slid a tablet in front of the girl. “If you sign your name right there, I will be your attorney, and then we can proceed.” Abby took the offered stylus. After a glance toward Felicity, she signed her name. “Good,” Leona nodded. “Now, do you know what a ward is?” “No ma’am.” “A ward,” the attorney explained, “is a young person, like you, who doesn’t have parents or family, but there’s someone else, a guardian, who wants to make sure that you’re cared for until you become an adult.” “Who is dot?” Felicity had taken a seat at her shoulder. ‘Who wants to take care of Abby?” “Dorian Adler, DDS,” Leona replied. Felicity gasped in surprise. “Who?” It was obvious that Miss Claudine wasn’t liking the direction of this. “Doctor Dorian!” Felicity exclaimed. “Da mon who fixed Abby up dot night.” Abby felt Felicity’s hand upon her shoulder. “He wants to take care ‘o’ me? That make me his special girl?” “No,” Leona turned full in her chair. “It means that he’ll provide for you. A good place to live, food, medical care, education. He’ll make certain that you are cared for properly.” Claudine wasn’t satisfied. “Why ain’t he here?” “Dr. Adler is currently rendering his services to the underdeveloped communities of the outer planets,” the lawyer replied. “He has, however, signed a writ of application to open a practice here on Santo. In addition to that, Dr. Adler has applied for and been approved of all commercial licenses and permits. Having demonstrated good intent, Dr. Adler’s application for Guardianship of Abigail Travis has likewise been approved, in addition to his request for Guardianship by proxy until his return.” “It’s all true, Claudine,” Deputy Hicks nodded his head. “I watched the magistrate sign everything myself.” “Proxy?” Felicity leaned forward. “That’s us,” the woman to Abby’s right spoke up. “Hi Abby. My name is Marisol. This is my husband, Paco. While Dr. Adler is away, you’ll live with us and our kids, in our house.” The woman offered a friendly smile. Her husband seemed nigh onto tears, lookin’ Abby’s bandages up an’ down as he was. “That’s right,” he managed at last. Claudine had found her voice. “Well ain’t this all wonderful?” she demanded. ‘Everbody makes out…except me.” “Quite frankly,” Leona spoke up, “considering the fact that my client hasn’t filed suit against you for an unsafe work environment, not to mention the fact that her emergency medical care was provided pro bono by Dr. Adler, you’re actually coming out of this unscathed.” “Pro boner?” Abby asked. Hicks smirked. “Pro bono,” that Marisol woman whispered. “It means free.” “But I got money tied up in this girl!” Claudine protested. “She owes me her option til the debt’s repaid!” “Less medical expenses, workplace injuries and lost potential income,” Leona fixed the madame over the rims of her glasses. “I’ll be kind and draw the limit at a 10,000 credit deduction from your claim. If you’ll produce your records, we’ll tally the balance and cut the bank draft right now.” All eyes turned toward Claudine, who was clearly unprepared to offer any proof. “I…need…time…with my numbers guy.” “You had twenty-four hours,” Leona drilled in. “In fact, you set the time for this meeting. If you’d required further time to get your financial records in order, you should have requested it yesterday.” As the color drained from Claudine’s face, the lawyer continued. “In the event you weren’t able to present any documentation, Dr. Adler instructed me to offer you a one time payment of three thousand credits. In exchange,” she continued, “you will relinquish any and all claims, present and future, as regards any guardianship, indenture, or apprenticeship involving Abigail Travis. Do you find these terms acceptable?” “Three thousand?” Claudine asked. “Deposited into your account today.” When the madame nodded, the lawyer pushed her tablet across the table. “Sign here, please.” A moment later, she handed it to Abby. “Now, you sign here, and Marisol, sign there as Guardian by Proxy.” Soon, everyone not in a wheelchair was standing. Felicity was wiping tears, and the whores’ balcony was lined with all the girls who waved as Abby was rolled out. “We’ve got a nice room all made up for you,” the Marisol lady smiled. “I’ve got a daughter just a couple years older than you…” Abby sorta lost what was being said, what with being loaded into a large coach for a ride to wherever she was headed. It was all too new…she couldn’t figure out if she should be cryin’ like Felicity or just…actin’ nice. Right before the door closed, Felicity leaned in to give her a kiss. “I come see you soon…an' bring all your stuff…okay?” “Shiny.” The older whore glanced at the Marisol lady. “Would dot be alright, missus?” “Abby’s friends are always welcome,” the Spanic woman nodded. Felicity took her hand. “T’ank you…t’ank you! Please t’ank Doctor Dorian,” she fairly bubbled. “You tell him dot every girl at “Down the Hatch” gon’ lay wit' him for free!” “Maybe not,” Marisol replied. “I’m his mother-in-law.” “Oh.”